


Shelved Lives

by AppleSoda



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Romance Novel, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Romantic Comedy, They get stuck in a book!!!, this will spoil their support btw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2020-10-19 16:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20660363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleSoda/pseuds/AppleSoda
Summary: One day on her way to the library, Dorothea notices a knight trying to get rid of unseemly reading materials from the monastery. Unfortunately for her, a most irritating classmate finds the book as well. But what she thinks is a romance novel proves far more than either of them  bargined for.





	1. Pages of a Beginning

To Dorothea, weekends initially seemed like the most wonderful thing about leaving the Mittlefrank Opera Company to enroll in the Officer’s Academy. After all, there was no chance of having to power through days filled with rehearsals and nights filled with performances and socializing. Her time was hers, and at first, she luxuriated in it.

But over the course of several weeks, she realized that there was simply too much time to fill, and not enough going on in the quiet little monastery and its surrounding market town. There wasn’t enough time to take a coach or horse out further without a mission, and the distance to Enbarr’s sights and sounds felt palpable. It was more comfortable there, even though she knew the truth that the capital couldn’t offer her a permanent future.

Dorothea puzzled over the problem while watching students and knights pass by in the monastery’s reception hall. Her errands and homework were finished, and other members of the Black Eagles were nowhere to be found.

Then, she spotted the knight carrying a hefty wooden crate. The woman strained under the weight, clearly used to making deliveries atop a pegasus or carrying lighter loads of supplies or knight-issue weapons. But peeking out of the top of the crate looked to be the top of a large stack of books.

“Do you need some help with that?” Dorothea offered.

“Oh, thank you so much,” the sigh of relief was obvious enough. “Seteth told me to get rid of these books that he’d gone through, and my squadmate decided to abandon me for some reason or another.” For all their bravery and valor, the Knights of Seiros were often surprisingly ordinary up close. More importantly, Dorothea realized the opportunity.

Seteth had lectured the students on keeping the library materials up to date during their earliest days at the Academy, and emphasized firmly that unauthorized literature would be removed swiftly. Which only meant one thing— there were occasions when more interesting books entered the school.

“Are you sure you want to get rid of those?” Dorothea reached up and wound her index finger around the ringlets of hair that hung near her face that would catch the light the best. She widened her eyes, and looked the part of her most vulnerable roles.

“Uh, I—well—” stammered the church soldier. Her serious demeanor slipped almost immediately.

Despite the fact that her face remained out of sight, her unsteady gait meant she was already half-convinced. And Dorothea knew that the fight was almost won. “But Seteth—”

“Oh, that’s no trouble at all. My Professor asked me to confiscate them, too. So really, I’d be doing you a favor. And someone like you looks like they’ve got so much more exciting things going on this weekend, hm? Maybe find your squadmate and give them a good talking-to?”

If the charm didn’t work, the sensible suggestion to find the layabout did. From the way the knight followed her words, she appeared convinced.

“Y-yeah, I guess you’re right,” the knight agreed.

“Maybe next weekend you can join me for a dinner and a stroll in the market,” Dorothea plied her words as sweetly as she did the lyrics she’d wanted to convey. She closed her hands around the crate of books, and gently tugged. Like the plants from the greenhouse, it broke free from the knight’s grasp. With a cheery wave, she started back towards the dormitories, prize in hand.

“Worked like a charm,” She grinned, clutching her prize close. “But a little too short on words, I think. So. Let’s see what we’ve got that’s apparently too unsuitable for the library…”

= = =

Most of the titles Seteth had wanted to throw away were religious texts stamped with “Western Church” on the inside cover. The conflicts between the branches had been something that had breached even the walls of Garreg Mach, with another student’s father leading an insurrection against Lady Rhea and herknights. But Dorothea took little personal interest in religious conflicts. After all, the goddess had brought little into her life, save Manuela, the Mittelfrank Opera company, and some of the classmates she had met. She set the religious books aside, and looked for anything recreational. And sure enough, at the bottom of the crate, lay a candy-apple book, slim in size and almost beckoning her to take it.

_Thorns of the Wallflower_ was a romance novel. From the looks of it, it held a conventionally flowery premise that Dorothea could’ve sworn came from an opera or play that had fallen far out of popularity in the Empire. Manuela liked a saying that referred to the title, and it was one that she’d taken a liking to, as well. Curling vines and floral motifs surrounded the cover of the beautiful-looking volume, which sat at the top of the stack of books that Seteth had deemed inappropriate.

Romance novels were popular to adapt into operas, short plays, or brief theatrical sketches. As such, Dorothea went through them with enthusiasm in Enbarr. The author of the book in the crate was one that she swore she remembered from other titles, but couldn’t quite place.

The premise seemed to be a simple one— a noblewoman, tired of her dull life, was embarking outside her quarters with the help of a street urchin-turned mercenary, who scrapped his way through the capital’s streets. And yet, it wasn’t at all. As she turned page after page, Dorothea felt herself drawn into the story— its characters, their triumphs and backstories, and how they’d grown fonder despite their differences. The hours seemed to slip by when she snuck away from class to speed through more chapters, or to dodge looks from other students that glanced towards the cover.

“Is that book any interesting?” Ferdinand had many character flaws: mentioning nobles positively far too often for his own good, obsession with punctuality, and hair that honestly would’ve looked good longer were just a few. The biggest problem she had with him, though, remained one that she’d nursed for quite some time — that he couldn’t see people past the surface. The problem was that nobody saw her past her surface, and not even the charm of a songstress could stave off that kind of hurt forever.

“No,” she snapped, “it’s not.” It hadn’t been in her nature to treat people coldly, but everything about him screamed for her to keep her defenses up. She knew why, and he couldn’t, because that would only mean handing over another weapon to someone she disliked.

“You seemed quite engrossed by it,”the noble frowned thoughtfully. “I had just wondered whether it was worth my time to pick it up, as well.”

“Oh, buzz off, Ferdie.” “We all know you’re not going to be picking up books like _this_,” She held up the cover of the novel, which depicted the noblewoman swooning into the mercenary’s arms. “Just tell me what your business is so I can get on with my life.”

“I simply wished to try to strike up a conversation about your interests so that we could—”

“My interests,” Dorothea breathed in sharply, “Well, right now, it’s probably getting away from here.” Once Ferdinand had set his mind on anything— competing with Edelgard, doing well on an exam, or lately, trying to befriend her, it was difficult to get him to give up.

“Alright, Keep the book, if you’d like.” She set itdown on the library table with a sharp rap. “Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two from reading it.”

As she departed from the library in quick steps, Ferdinand looked down at the novel, opening it with a curious expression. It was true that romance novels weren’t something he went out of his way to read, but good books and shared conversation topics with Dorothea would only help them be friends. Optimistic, he began to read.

Fifteen seconds later later, Ferdinand’s face turned bright scarlet as he realized just what sort ofsection he opened the novel to, and at once, he shut the book, setting it down gently. With a sheepish expression, he picked up his things and hurried out. Once more, the library was empty, save the shelves of books, and one unauthorized title that lay on the table. With no onlookers, the surface of _Thorns of the Wallflower_ began to glow softly.

= =

“I’m concerned,” Edelgard frowned. “Ferdinand would never miss class two days in a row. When I was out with a cold, he boasted about getting a better attendence record.” She scoffed. Ridiculous, down to the last. Though it had been deliciously quiet without her self-proclaimed rival, having the son of her Prime Minister missing wouldn’t do in the longer term.

“Dorothea’s been missing class, too,” Bernadetta piped up, popping up from her usual hiding spot under a spare desk. “I was on Greenhouse duty with her, and I’m worried…She loves singing to the flowers just before we finish up, and she doesn’t like missing it…”

“This is most troubling,” the Imperial Princess frowned. “I would make a poor leader, if I were misplacing my subordinates so carelessly. Let us begin a search for Ferdinand and Dorothea at once.” She gestured to Hubert, who then glared at the Black Eagles students that were busily working away in their classroom. One look from their house leader’s lieutenant was all it took for students to put down their projects, depart the classroom, and begin to look for their two missing classmates. They hadn’t been far into the year, but Hubert already had a reputation for being quite cross, or worse, at anyone that didn’t follow Edelgard’s orders.

The Library was Edelgard’s destination, having not seen yet another member of their house. But she wasn’t worried about the third person unaccounted for. Sure enough, the green-haried mage was right where she thought he’d be.

“Oh, Edelgard, is that you?” Linhardt lifted his head up from a desk. He had a small book in his hands. “I may have found a clue as to where they’ve gone.”

“The first thing that’s strange about this book is that all the pages are blank.” Linhardt held it up and flipped through several pages, showing Edelgard just what he had said. “The second, well… you’ll have to see for yourself.”

Linhardt set the book down on the table and gestured towards it. Illustrated on the cover were the two figures— the noblewoman, beautiful and proud, holding her hand up as to reject a potential lover,a dashing young mercenary that leaned towards her. Edelgard and Linhardt exchanged looks, examining the painted cover closer— for the cover had changed to depict Dorothea and Ferdinand, frozen in place in the beginnings of a strange new story.


	2. Roles to be Played

_“Do you really see the city that way?”she asked, getting a good look at the him for the first time. “I don’t think I’ve ever thought about anyone like you my whole life.” _

_ The question wasn’t one suited to him, or to her, but something comepelled her onwards, despite that. She had to know what he thought, and she had to see him again. _

_= = _

Slowly, Dorothea lowered her hand, slowing her breathing. A few seconds ago, she had been on the verge of sending a ball of fire hurtling towards the way of an innocent girl that had appeared in her room, who was cowering behind a chair as magical sigils hung overhead. With a wave of her hand, the spell disappeared.

“Milady, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just wanted to check in on your morning preparations,” stammered the girl, who ouldn’t have been more than sixteen. She clutched the cloth cap on her head for dear life, and almost sunk into her well-worn apron and skirts.

As Dorothea got a good look at her surroundings, the stranger in her bedroom was the least sudden of what had changed.

“Hold on a second,” she said softly. She stepped out from the bed and felt plush carpet under her feet. Upon first glance out the window, Dorothea knew precisely where she was from the coloring and structure of the rooftops that loomed outside.

“I’m…in Enbarr?”

“Yes, miss. Shall I send for…erm, a nutritious broth, if you’re feeling woozy or sick?” The maid, recovering, was already bustling about.

“We can’t have Lady Dorothea von Arnault out and about not knowing where she is,” clucked the girl with a soft, gentle chuckle.

Dorothea’s room in Garreg Mach wasn’t uncomfortable, by any means. There was no way, after all, that nobles would ever send their precious children to a boarding school with uncomfortable beds and chairs. But as decent as the lodgings were, they were still student dorms, at the end of the day. And the bedchambers she woke in were no student’s lodgings. As she shoved the heavy, feather-filled quilt aside, Dorothea found herself staring up at a ceiling with a crystal chandelier. She sat up, and besides the sumptuously soft bed, the smell of fresh tea and hot pastries wafted over from a tray nearby.

It wasn’t until the maid had uttered the name ‘Lady Dorothea von Arnault’, new and strange, that she realized that the Fódlan she knew was somewhere else— somewhere far off in the distance. The Enbarr here may have shared names with her old home, but Lady Dorothea von Arnault was a fabrication. That much was made perfectly clear by cold, hard reality. But if whatever dream, spell, or illusory trick had made her into a Lady, then a Lady they would get. 

“It’s Jules, miss. Are you sure I shouldn’t send for medicine?” The maid frowned at her, and Dorothea knew that she needed to do something, and fast. With a flourish, she waved her hand and placed the back of her palm against her temple, her step artfully unsteady as she stumbled towards the breakfast tray.

“I….yes, please….some headache medicine. Perhaps I had too much wine at dinner last evening.” A slight change in her voice, and an inflection she’d borrowed from the ladies she’d socialized with, and Dorothea was ready to play her newest, most unexpected role. She laid her hand on her chest, taking in a sharp —and noticeable-- deep breath. Then, she continued, letting the lines write themselves out.

“Jules, I simply don’t know what came over me. Let’s keep this between ourselves, shall we?”

= =

There was never a shortage of things that concerned Ferdinand. After all, House Aegir’s affairs ranged from legislation to the conduct of the imperial household. And ever since he was a boy, Ferdinand had wanted nothing else but to quickly and efficiently assume his father’s title of Prime Minister.

But what concerned him now had nothing to do with the many noble burdens that he had to carry. Ferdinand’s more immediate problem was that he had woken up in a threadbare cot in a house that was ill-insulated from the early autumn chill.

“Boss, you’re not looking so great this morning. Is it something you got from the last job?” A heavily scarred man barged into the room, chewing on a loaf of bread noisily. Wrapped around his head was a worn bandana.

“Name yourself,” Ferdinand narrowed his eyes, and reached for the sword. “Who are you, and what business do you have?”

“Did you hit your head last night? Cmon’, you’ve got to go over the plan, and we’re already late.” Grabbing him by the shoulders, the man steered him out of bed and shoved a bundle of cloth at him. “Make yourself decent, Ferdinand Aegir. I’ll see you in five minutes.”

With that, he slammed the door shut. Ferdinand held up the bundle in his arms to find a roughly woven shirt, jacket, and scarf— far humbler articles of clothing than he’d ever worn in his life.

Most importantly was the fact that whatever powers had be had removed the “von” from his name. There was no rhyme or reason for charging into battle declaring that he was simply ‘Ferdinand Aegir’, for the goddess’ sake. Such a shortened name had no ring to it. If this wasn’t an indication of his true station in life, than nothing was. But any noble worth his salt, even if he was accustomed to far more comfortable means couldn’t insulate himself from commoners, and he couldn’t walk among them without any attire at all. Pulling on the shirt with a frown, Ferdinand began to look about for a basin to wash up.

Moments later, he entered a common room in what looked to be a cheap inn. Sprawled out on stolls and benches were six or so bandits and mercenaries, each looking as if they’d gone through the wrong side of a war.

“Boss!” called the scarred man. “So you’ve finally taken old Gen’s advice and decided to join us.”

“Boss, I tried my best yesterday. I know you were talking to that proper lady, but the job…” A woman clutched her knit hat and looked remorseful. “You weren’t hurt too badly, were you?”

A flare of pain that flickered like sword cuts Ferdinand had received in practice suddenly burst to life at his side. He clutched at it with a small wince. “There is no need to concern yourself,” he answered. “I can recover handily from a cut such as this.”

“You’re sounding real prim and proper,” nodded Gen. “Did talking to that Lady rub off on you?”

“A Lady?” Ferdinand echoed. Yesterday at that exact time, he had been mingling readily with a great many Ladies—and Lords, too, for that matter. For he had been walking the halls of Garreg Mach Monastery as their peer. “I was speaking to a Lady?” Whatever the person he was in this world was doing, he had to jog the memories that were now wholly his.

“Listen, Boss,” the woman let out a low whistle. “I’m sorry I cut your night short, but I have to say—you’ve sure got some guts, trying to court Dorothea von Arnault.”

At that moment, memories of several short recollections came to mind for Ferdinand. First, that bandits and mercenaries were referring to him as a leader. Second, that they linked him to a Lady— whose role was now occupied by Dorothea. Thirdly, and most tellingly, he remembered just what it was that a mercenary andLady were doing in the book that he had found in the library just before disappearing. At the thought of the excerpt, he felt his face heat.

Dorothea had never looked upon him with anything, save contempt. But there was no denying her loveliness. Before he had shut the book, he recalled words like ‘worship’ and ‘hold’ and ‘cherish’ amongst other far earthlier phrases. And now, she held the title that he had worked for—yearned for since he was a boy, really. And just like her days in the opera, there was no doubt that Dorothea would find people to worship her.

“Your love life aside, boss, we’ve got to plan the next job.” Gen handed him a scroll and gestured for Ferdinand to continue a job that he hadn’t ever held. “Ready to started?”

One of the first lessons that his father had taught him about goverence was to have a contingency for every plan that went astray. The second was to stay as positive as he could.

“I believe that I am,” he answered, examining the first step just what life as a mercenary wouldlook like. Whatever this particular chapter held, Ferdinand was ready to face it with the tenacity of the noble that he had been, and the determination of the fighter that he always would be.And more than anything else, he was curious to know exactly what a world that had a Dorothea von Arnault in it looked like.

= =

“If I’m seeing this correctly,” an amused sneer crossed Hubert’s face “circumstances have thrown our dear classmates quite challenging lots in life.

“Hubert,” Edelgard cut in, frowning sharply at her vassal and closest confidant. “Please take this seriously. House Hresvelg must maintain good relations with the Prime Minister, and that means ensuring that House Aegir’s heir remains safe here.”

With agrimace, Hubert nodded. “My apologies, Lady Edelgard. We will redouble our efforts to resolve this…unpleasantness before us.”

“It’s a hex of some sort. Of that I’m certain.” Linhardt turned the book over, passing his left hand over it as glowing, magical glyphs surrounded it. “Whatever is keeping them in there erased the story and changed the cover. It’s not an easy thing to do, to transport two people from this dimension into one on another plane of existence.” The normally impossible-to-rouse boy had found a puzzle that interested him, and there was an unusually animated energy in his usually drowsy voice. “There are no indications that there are dangerous, harmful hexes cast on the book, so I doubt they’ve been killed. That said, there might be a chance that there are additional spells layered into this artifact that will take time to decipher. I’ll need as many mages to assist as I can get.”

There was a noise at the entrance of the classroom.

“I heard there was a magical puzzle you needed help with?” asked Annette, a Blue Lions student, who had been standing outside the door. She had fallen to the floor in the midst of eavesdropping, along with Lysithea, a shorter pale-haired Golden Deers student that was as short as a squire, but wouldn’t let anyone forget about what she could do with a dark magic hex.

“Annette and I can probably have that spell unlocked by tea-time,” beamed the younger girl.

“It appears that the problem will also require my assistance,” chimed in a voice that exuded confidence. “Fear not, my classmates. Lorenz Hellman Gloucester will assist you in breaking the curse. I, too, have trained at the Sorcerer’s Academy”

“He passed classes,” muttered Annette to Lysithea.

“I baked some honey-and-oat bars for a nutritious snack,” Mercedes, another Blue Lions student walked in, carrying a sweet-smelling basket under her arm. “That way, nobody runs out of energy while they’re working to save Dorothea and Ferdinand.”

It was astounding, what a curse could do on the grounds of Garreg Mach. With a curt nod, Edelgard set the unlikely team of mages to work.

= = =

No matter how much Enbarr had caused her grief, Dorothea knew that it was the one city that she’d always have room in her heart to love. Even before she had enrolled in the halls of Garreg Mach, the city itself was her school in bartering, in finding places and people to love and befriend, and the first teacher of a great many difficult lessons.

The circles of nobility, however, appeared to travel in an enclave that sealed her off from everything she one found familiar. After memorizing so many scripts that mimicked how nobles and their Elite ancesors lived, Dorothea found that the real thing simply paled in comparison. In fact, it was a lot like being stuck on a dull date with no way of leaving. Though she was surrounded by silk cushions and finery, the bars of an invisible gilded cage slowly materialized before her. At last, her and her maid were allowed a moment’s reprieve to step outside of the lavishly furnished home.

Picking over a few trinkets from a shop in the market, Dorothea glanced through the streets, still on the lookout for clues as to how she’d ended up in an Enbarr that had existed only in the pages of a book.

“There you are!” Ferdinand’s smile, as obnoxiously and optimistically infectious as it was to see, was a familiar sight that she’d missed, for some reason or another. “I was wondering if the lady they weret alking about was you.” He was out of breath, clutching his knees for stability. When he leaned up, she realized that he was far more disheveled than she’d last seen him.His hair, usually neatly coiffed, was tousled and messy. The neckcloth he wore had been replaced by a scarf of rough linen, along with a maroon jacket and tunic set, all secondhand. A wicked-looking blade hung at his hip in a way that Dorothea couldn’t help find enticing, as if the usually stuffy classmate she was used to had been replaced with a dashing young pirate, ready to sweep her off onto an adventure.

“The lady _who_ was talking about?” Dorothea frowned. “And Ferdie, what…what happened to you?” With an incredulous grin, she reached out and plucked at his sleeve. He blushed, and drew back Is if he’d been struck with a Fire spell.

“Well, as difficult as it is to believe, I appear to have found myself the leader of a mercenary band,” he answered. “But I am managing,” Ferdinand added. “And you?”

The answer could only have meant one thing, and from the way that he’d avoided eye contact, he knew exactly just what tha snwer was.

In truth, Ferdinand wasn’t the worst choice for a co-star, and Dorothea knew that in any good stage production, there was a need to pretend to love men that she didn’t to get out of trouble.

Ferdinand had never leered at her like a few of the knights or students she’d crossed paths with. That had always bothered Dorothea in Garreg Mach, but now,the way that his meticulous eye traveled over her clothes felt intrusive, and instinctively she pulled her shawl tighter, as if he’d be afraid or repulsed by what sort of a person he’d really see, even if she was as proud as anyone on the outside.

“You know me, Ferdie. If I’m given a role and an expectation, I take the cue and go ahead. But more importantly,” she added, “this isn’t a play with a solo lead.”

“Ah, yes. You read this book, have you not?” It was silly, to see any true mercenary speak with the polished way Ferdinand couldn’t help but doing. “What is to become of our characters?” 

Memorizing story beats had been something she’d gotten quite good at. And what had happened next in the book was clear. But even though she’d been prepared to find partners she didn’t quite love, Dorothea loathed the idea of following scripts to the exact word, if it didn’t make the show any better. She was a diva through and through, after all.

“What becomes of us is entirely up to me and you. I wouldn’t do things any other way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> taking the "von" out of "Ferdinand von Aegir" was painful for me to do. Believe me.


	3. Ambitions of a New Tale

_Neither wallflower nor sellsword knew much about each other’s worlds. But what they did know was that neither liked to lose a challenge. _

_= = _

A long and trying day in an Enbarr he had never known had brought Ferdinand’s spirits quite low. He hadn’t expected, after all, that upon waking, that his title and name could have changed to that of a mercenary band’s leader, carousing and making plans with brigands that his father would’ve never given the time of day.

Personally, Ferdinand held nothing against the people of Embarr who earned their keep by working as sellswords or bodyguards. After all, it was something of an open secret that almost all the noble houses of the Empire employed them to perform less than desirable tasks, even if the speciifcs of those tasks were lost to him.

But in his heart of hearts, he knew that he was personally meant for more than that—he was destined to manage and guide a noble house to glory. It was in his blood, and it was in his schedule since he was a boy. Most importantly, a noble title was what he’d always had his eart set on. But working together with Gen and the rest of the men was what he needed now, and so the hours had passed in subsidence.

Then, he had caught sight of Dorothea in the marketplace, and time itself seemed to stop for a few moments while his mind and heart caught up.

She was dressed in the stunning resplendence of a fashionable lady of Enbarr. During school days, she was never one to slouch on her appearance. But when Ferdinand caught sight of her in the exquisitely tailored day gown of a proper empire lady, he caught his breath, and searched for the right words to say. Though his role in whatever story they lived in was quite humble, Dorothea deserved to be paid fine compliments no matter where they were. 

“You wear a noble’s clothing well, Dorothea,” was all he managed some time into their conversation. She had pulled her shawl tighter, and had turned away reflexively at first sight of him. Instinctively, Ferdinand looked up at his unkempt hair and disheveled clothing, and reddened slightly at being seen in such a state. 

“You would notice the title first. That’s what really matters to you, isn’t it?” As soon as she opened her mouth and levelled that gaze upon him, the illusory sight fell away to the girl that had nothing but disdain for him.That was always the case, unfortunately, whenever he had thought that there was a breakthrough that could lead to the fostering of a fulfilling friendship.

Straighting the battered but still perfectly balanced sword at his hip, Ferdinand remained curious about just what she saw him as now— someone who was rightfully put into his place by whatever fate had befallen him, surely.

There was no possibility, after all, that Dorothea would ever see him in a positive light, barring some miracle from Saint Seiros herself— not unless he figured out just what it is that made him detestable.

He sighed. “If I simply rolled out of bed into the closest clean thing I owned, I would never command respect as a nobleman. Even if I would never begrudge someone by how they looked, I must keep to certain standards.”

“One must have _options_ in order to have standards,” Dorothea cut in. “I swear, every time I think you’ve gotten better about this, you stumble backwards like it stung you. Like a bee,” she added, the knowing grin that hid whatever secret that he still couldn’t puzzle out.

“Clearly, I have touched on a topic that offends you. Have you figured out a way back to Garreg Mach?” Ferdinand tried. As lovely as it was to consider the common man and glimpse Dorothea in a noblewoman’s finery, the world they were in was not their own. And like it or not, they were the only familiar faces in the city that both of them had once called home. 

Dorothea shook her head, folding her arms beneath her shawl. But she leaned in a little closer, away from the din of the street, gesturing with two fingers for him to close the distance between them. When her long, brunette curls brushed against his shoulder, he fought the urge to draw back reflexively, suddenly alert down to his last nerve ending of how near they were to one another.

“I know enough about magic to know we need to be searching the city,” she answered, her voice all business, its tone calming Ferdinand’s nerves a little. “Find anything and anyone that doesn’t look like they should be in this place, and we’ll find the way out.”

“I see,” he answered. “Then it shall be for the best if you search among the nobility, and I the commonters.” A slow grin spread over his face. “A task that I shall accomplish quite well, if I may say so myself.” After all, he had won over the lieutenants of whatever mercenary he took the place of. And upon occasion, Ferdinand Aegir (the name took getting used to) could certainly draw a weapon and fight without hesitation.

“Dream on,” Dorothea drew back, with a scoff. “I know exactly how nobles work, from my days in the opera. I’d like to see you try to make it as a mercenary.” She was no rival of his, and that role remained squarely occupied by an Imperial Princess whose prowess in battle, statecraft and strategy still dwarfed his. And yet, Ferdinand was determined not to back down.

“I suppose we shall see how the other fares,” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the maid that had accompanied Dorothea scuttling back, finished with her share of errands. “Shall we meet again to discuss findings?”

“Three days from now,” answered Dorothea. “That’s when I think I’ll be able to get away again. And by then, I’ll have the von Arnaults wrapped around my finger.” She blew him a kiss in a manner not unlike many opera singers did when they had to depart a backstage meeting. Once, as a child, he had seen Manuela captivate audiences in similar ways. And in the schoolyard, Dorothea attracted admirers to her with ease. But she hadn’t seemed happy, exactly, even though her days seemed filled.

Then again, it really wasn’t Ferdinand’s place to say what precisely brought Dorothea joy. He’d wanted to know, of course. But that was a process that took more time than he’d had, especially if there was a curse keeping both of them in place.

In a way, it was strangely…amusing, the circumstances that they had been trapped in. Less so, the fact that Dorothea clearly despised him still, and likely more so that he had no title or reputation to his name. But it was never the title he wanted the most, but the duty ahead of him.

The older bandit looped his arm around Ferdinand, guiding him away from the market. “Boss, if I can give you a word of advice…”

“Gen, were you spying on us?” Ferdinand frowned. As if to punctuate his newfound authority, he tapped the pommel of his sword.

“No, no. Nothing of the sort. Just seemed like she was a bit…cold when you started using twenty-coin words around her at the end.” The other mercenary backed away, putting his hands up in deference.

“Ah, well…we have a bit of a history, and it is no—isn’t all good.” Ferdinand corrected himself.

In reply, the older man nodded understandingly. “You’re never going to win her over if you’re going to pretend like you’re a fine gent, you know,” Gen offered. “Because as I live and breathe, you’re not one, Ferdinand Aegir.” He clapped his young charge on the shoulder with a chuckle.

“No, if you’re going to have any hope with that lady, you’re going to need to think the way we do on the streets.”

But Gen was right. In order for anything to move, Ferdinand von Aegir would have to effectively die, at least temporarily. If anything, it was a lecture of sorts on the muscle memory of commoners.

If it was a performance of a mercenary that was needed, then Ferdinand knew he’d give a performance that would put the finest of Enbarr’s stage to shame. He grinned lazily in the way he’d seen Gen do, and bade him lead the way back.

“What’s with that…weird look, boss? I’m real worried about you, you know…” Gen shook his head. “But anyways, let me tell you the intelligence on the next job…”

= = =

“I will have you know that my expertise on magic is quite sufficient in order to figure out this line of runes—” Lorenz snapped, shaking out a sheet of notes. He’d spent a good hour casting and calculating properties of the book.

“You were on your way to making the book explode, and I know a thing or two about explosions,” Annette huffed. “Look, the symbols are off here, here and here.” She gestured with her pen at the notes. “There’s no _way_ that that was going to generate an image of the book.”

“Annette’s right,” Lysithea nodded. “Clearly, you’ve been rusty at magic since you’ve last taken more serious magical studies, Lorenz. “

“How are you, this impudence from House Ordelia’s heir is most unbecoming—”

“Um, this isn’t really my strong suit, but could the three of you cut that out and help me with checking over my calculations?” Linhardt held up papers of his own, but knew already that his voice wouldn’t do much when the other three students looked to be getting into a heated shouting match.

“Oh, goodness,” a fourth voice cut through their lively conversation. “I didn’t expect so many people to be working on this.” Walking through with a large hamper was Mercedes von Martritz, another student gifted in the magical arts.

“Mercie, you’re here,” Annette grinned.

“You’re late,” Lysithea, who was clearly at the end of her rope, cut in.

“I thought that you all might have needed a little encouragement,” Mercedes opened the lid of the sweet-smelling wicker basket. “I remember studying with Annie back at the School of Sorcery, and figuring out that sometimes a break is just what you need.”

Immediately, Lysithea’s eyes sparkled, as if the key to a spell had come to her. “Yes, of course. A break, with sweets—” She looked up and met the eyes of the other mages. “Is a distraction, but if everyone else partakes…” Already, she had hooked two ring-shaped pastries out of the basket, and was reaching for a third.

Linhardt reached for a pastry, stuffing it into his mouth. “Thank goodness, I was going to fall over if I didn’t eat something or nap. But honestly, I still might need a nap…” But as much as their motley little group had bickered, it was fascinating, just what they were able to get done. The book’s hex was an advanced one, for one. And whoever had cursed it built off the text of the words, changing it to suit purposes that, at their current stopping point, remained unknown.

As Lorenz poured tea and explained precisely how the leaves were procured to his now-content audience snacking away on Mercedes’ sweets, Linhardt glanced towards the open copy of Thorns of the Wallflower.

His eyes narrowed, as a pen from the table had floated up and began to write words back into the book.

“That’s strange…” Linhardt said quietly. “I wonder what that’s going to do to them…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love ….this wizard group project so much…..


	4. Woes of Wallflower and Sellsword

From the outset, Dorothea had been certain of what she wanted— or more precisely, life on the strees of Enbarr had poined her to what was safest. She sought to be taken care of, and to never have to worry about scrapping together a way to make ends meet. Then, the work of making sure that no one had to live hungry and poor could really begin.

In her most miserable moments, she had wished desperately that there was a place for her to belong, that some Duke or Countess could whisk her away as a child of their household. It wasn’t a particularly imaginative dream, to wish for a comfortable bed and a good meal and parents to stare at her adoringly. That moment had never come, until the very moment appeared in the form of an enspelled novel. But unlike combat spells, which any mage could recover from casting with a bit of rest, this spell took a cost of another sort.

“They’re letting all sorts of riff-raff into this district,” sniffed the Countess, a haughty-looking woman, as she angrily sawed her dinner into bits. “Bandits, merchants…what’s next, street performers?” Satisfied that her delicately roasted meat and vegetables had been all but shredded, she began to eat. Across the table, Dorothea gripped her fork and knife tighter, thinking of days where opera company members had to dine with their wealthy but ill-bred patrons.

“Dear, it’s something the Emperor and his court are trying to settle,” added the Count, who had a voice that reminded Dorothea of weak tea, pleaded quietly. “And I will hire guards to accompany the both of you on your public excursions.” What her supposed mother was up to during the day, Dorothea couldn’t quite place. She had half a mind to escape with Jules and tail her.

But one thing was for sure: whoever the parents of the woman in the novel was, they hadn’t seemed particularly kind.No wonder it was easier to slink into shyness and solitude.

The days as a noblewoman settled into her like a dress that wasnt hers, borrowed from some occasion where she had to be on the arm of a noble, only to be placed back into the opera company when they were finished entertaining guests or some member of the Imperial household. The memories of such times lingered, no matter how many people in the Enbarr Dorothea now wlaked through treated her as a lady.

“Is it really dangerous?” she asked sweetly, setting down her fork. “I can’t imagine a more charming place than our district. Besides, Enbarr’s not a bad place. It’s charming, in its own right…” Evening strolls accompanied by Jules and a footman had been her favorite parts of the two days that had passed, after days spent in dry tea-time conversations and managing difficult-sounding but likely useless nobles’ disagreements.

“How would you know that, young lady?” snapped the Count“A future Countess is not wandering the streets about like some shameless girl in the theaters and opera houses.”

“What’s gotten into you, dear? You appear to be acting odd lately…” By all appearances, the Countess looked the part of a concerned mother. But Dorothea already knew that the glittering eyes of the noblewoman shone with suspicion. She took a sip of wine and made sure to tremble a little, slipping back into her role of the wallflower daughter.

“I’m sorry, I just got caught up in the excitement of my outing today. Perhaps I should retire to bed early…” She cast her gaze down, channeling every shy shepherdess and meek maid she’d acted the part of before being cast in larger roles.

Out of the corner of her eye, Dorothea saw the Countess’ look soften. “Poor dear. Maybe you’ve caught something while out on the streets.” She laid a gently hand on her daughter’s forearm. “I’ll have Jules send up something later.” With an assured nod, she gave leave, allowing at last the opportunity to retreat. Think wallflower, Dorothea told herself in silence. Not songstress, not student. A lonely noble girl, trying to find a way out had to be the person she needed to play.

While she read the novel, she had despised the parts of the Count and Countess, who had pushed their daughter out of their way in anything that did not align with their ambitions. They had chosen a suitor for her and forbade her from seeking an education for herself. Dorothea had half a mind to fight them, and free the girl to live a life of her own. Fortunately, the girl had saved herself and found love in the arms of the mercenary.

It was harder to stay in character as a wallflower, too, partially because she had wanted to take a break from the monastery so very badly. Enbarr was home— not its palaces, gilded houses, or pretty buildings, save for one opera house. That, Dorothea held true and couldn’t shake, even in disguise. She exhaled sharply, feeling breath and pent-up anger leave her in one swift breath, then slumped against her closed door. It had felt like a retreat, what she had done. And she never backed down unless there was nothing left to fight for.

= =

Out of all of Garreg Mach’s students, Ferdinand had considered himself to be on one of the strictest schedules. After all, it wasn’t just anyone that had a chance at besting Princess Edelgard in skill and intellect. And yet, no mater how much he pushed himself to study and fight, she stayed ahead.

The life of a mercenary had seemed, at the outset, like an opportunity to hone his skills to prepare to compete all the more fiercely when he returned to the academy. Roughnecks and swordsmen from all walks of life populated the barracks of the small lodge-house, and all of them looked to him to lead. What was that, but not an opportunity for a true noble to shine through?

As it turned out, Ferdinand was distraught as he strode into the marketplace, ready to meet with Dorothea again. Two bungled missions, one owing to his less-than-perfect ambush tactics and the other to a misunderstanding with a guardsman, had left the Aegir mercenaries underpaid and grumbling. Worse still, he bit his tongue at the men that chided him for putting on airs, as if he walked on finer paving stones and breathed more expensive air.

Nobility, he had wanted to reply, wasn’t about any of that at all, but the conducts of a virtuous, selfless leader. But it was impossible to win over those who thought he had neither virtue nor selflessness. Likely, that was why Dorothea despised him.

Her bright green eyes drew him to the quiet corner of the marketplace. They shone with power that she had wielded alongside Manuela Casagranda, another diva of the opera company. Yet Dorothea’s gaze was cast sideways, distracted by something he couldn’t quite place. A faint flush crept up the side of his neck as he remembered just what sort of book they had found themselves stuck in. The idea had lingered, resurfacing occasionally at moments where he had almost forgotten.

“Well met, Lady Dorothea.” He ran a hand through his hair, which was already getting unkempt from days spent away from the valet that groomed it.

“Ferdie,” came the reply. “Are you doing alright, roughing it out in the streets with us commoners?” She adjusted her shawl and cast a wary glance in his direction. It certainly appeared as if she was going to be as cold as she always was, but then she moved closer.

He felt the warm press of her hands into his palm as a small bundle changed hands. Untying the ribbon that held it closed, Ferdinand inhaled the sweet scent of Southern Fruit tea, and beamed.

“I stole it out of the house. Thought you’d miss having good tea.” Dorothea commented absently. “The Count won’t miss it.”

“What of your time in his household? House Arnault seems to be quite influential, does it not?”

“I…I don’t think I would have liked to have a Count for a father. And I didn’t have it easy, anyways.” On the walk over, she had pondered just what it would feel like to tell Ferdinand about who she took the place of.

Shy Bernadetta von Varley and determined Caspar von Bergliez, two classmates, had come to mind. One almost broken by a house that threatened to modl her into submission, and one battered by a house that would never crown him, were two of the ways that nobility showed its true face. Dorothea, too, had known all too well what it meant to dwell in its shadows.

But out of all of them, Ferdinand seemed to put his faith in the ideals of nobility. After all, a Duke’s son who saw nothing but sunshine and opportunity in his family couldn’t possibly see anything else.

“Titles certainly haven’t made life easy for a great many nobles,” Ferdinand frowned. “The world wasn’t built to be easy, and not all children of noble households make it out….” He cast a gaze off to the side, as if reaching towards recollections he knew of, but hadn’t wanted to find again. And unlike the useless platitudes of many, Dorothea sensed that his regret was genuine.

“As a fellow member of the Black Eagles, it is our duty to fight side-by-side through this,” Ferdinand declared. “Is anything troubling you in fulfilling the the role of a noble? I know it can be quite challenging to get used to.”

At the comment, Dorothea’s mouth twisted slightly, as if she had bitten into something that was exceptionally bitter.

“I had never doubted that nobility had the ability to be cruel. Let’s make that clear,” she said, avoiding his attentive gaze, but knowing that it followed her. “Don’t worry about me too much, Ferdie. I’ve always been able to make it on my own.” If they were on the streets of Enbarr and she had nothing to risk, it would be a moment where she’d run away down an alley or tuck herself into the alcove of a house, knocking over trash cans and crates to block the way. Wallflower be damned, Dorothea had certain things about herself she had to prove.

“But I care for you, Dorothea. That hasn’t changed.” The words were as warm as a fresh-baked loaf of bread, and as she opened her eyes, she saw that there was truth in his unconditionally kind response. And she remembered that it wasn’t nobility she had wanted. Not precisely. “If being a noble troubles you, perhaps there are ways that my wisdom and experience at nobility could make it easier.”

Her lips quirked into a slight smile, partially out of amusement, but in part out of relief. Just as she had thought, Ferdinand would never truly stop thinking like a young nobleman, no matter what happened to him.And yet, it was almost impossible not to notice how his eyes softened when he said her name.

Ferdinand really was a bee, for the reasons she’d known, but for his tenacity, too.

“Whatever it takes to get back to Garreg Mach,” she replied. “Promise?”

The question came, unbidden by anything other than the dull but comforting warmth at seeing him once again. She hadn’t liked the circumstances that had brought them together, or his company in the days prior to the story of the wallflower and the mercenary. But if they were to play the parts in the book, then perhaps more of its secrets would be revealed.

“Promise,” Ferdinand answered. “Now, what should be the next order of business? Shall I steal you away for the evening?” The sun was setting over the marketplace, and as it gleamed off the pommel of his sword-belt, Dorothea realized this his voice had taken on a more rough, rogueish edge— one that seemed impossible for someone like him. Despite everything, he was trying to play his part, just as she was struggling to fit into hers.

“No,” Dorothea replied evenly, but took his hand anyways.“I think I’ll steal myself away, and let you tag along.”

Whatever time the book would give them, they would need every second of it. And a little part of her that she would never admit needed it too.


	5. Breakthroughs

Few students went through the library on Sunday afternoon, making it the perfect time to inspect its shelves for any clues. But try as Linhardt might with Lorenz and Annette, they found little in the way of clues. Only Tomas, the librarian, puttered about re-shelving tomes, occasionally glancing at the three of them with an occasional silent nod.

To him, the library was a place of purpose. And yet even Linhardt tired of searching endlessly for a clue that none of them knew of. Lorenz, who held the book open, was scrutinizing the three chapters that had appeared, writing out a new story with Dorothea and Ferdinand.

“The writing quality on this leaves much to be desired,” Lorenz frowned, snapping the book shut. “It is most florid, and lacks a certain poetic…touch, I believe.”

“We’re not reading it as a piece of literature,” Linhardt sighed. “It’s purely for informational purposes on the whereabouts of our classmates.”

“I like romantic stories,” Annette beamed. “They always offer a bit of cheering up whenever I’m down.” Suddenly, she shot the two boys pointed looks, and held a finger to her lips.

A pegasus knight was looking about the shelves, inspecting each book with her fingertip. She had been wandering about for about twenty-five minutes, occasionally cursing softly when whatever she was looking for continued to elude her.

“Are you looking for something?” Linhardt asked. Usually, he wouldn’t have given much thought to what other people did in the library, much less consider helping. But the woman had a frantic expression that suggested she wasn’t merely running a knight’s errand. Furthermore,her pacing was getting in the way of a power nap that he had scheduled in five minutes time.

“Um, this is a bit embarrassing,” the knight grinned sheepishly. “But you wouldn’t have happened to have found a novel lying around, have you?”

“A novel? This is a library,” Linhardt responded dryly. “You’ll have to give me a few more details than that.”

“Oh, er…it’s…” the knight blushed bright pink. “I was supposed to get rid of it, but I wanted to know if it was gone. It’s…a romantic story. Not really student-friendly…”

“Thorns of the Wallflower, is it?” Linhardt supplied. If there was an answer to a question, he simply couldn’t help himself but try to fill in the blanks. At the reply, the knight’s face brightened.

“Yes, that’s the one! Would you be able to get it to me? Seteth has been trying to finish sorting this batch immediately, and I can’t have it go missing—”

“The book is necessary to us,” Lorenz cut in. “I’m afraid you’ll have to ask the librarian to join the queue for it.”

“Such insubordination to a knight of Seiros,” she hissed. “Very well, perhaps I should teach you a lesson on obedience, noble brat.” Her voice took on a lower, more gravelly tone as she drew a razor-sharp dagger from a leather sheath at her belt. Alarmed, Lorenz doubled back, having no spell at the ready. No knight had ever drawn a weapon pointed at a student on school grounds, save for blunted sparring blades.

“I’ve seen enough.”

Hubert von Vestra held up the pegasus knight by her neck, glaring so menacingly that even stoic-faced Linhardt took a reflexive step back. Purple and black energy emanated from his fingertips, likely some spell he had at the ready.

“I believe we’ve all learned a valuable lesson,” Hubert drawled. “Never dawdle when direct action is available.” He gripped the pegasus knight’s neck a little tighter with a grimace that sent Annette scurrying under a desk, muttering to herself about ghosts. Lorenz followed her, pleading that Hubert most likely still walked among the living and that there was a perfectly logical explanation for what they had just seen.

“Well, I may not agree with his methods,” Lorenz turned to Linhardt as knights apprehended the pegasus knight, marching her off into a nearby corridor. He looked upon Hubert curiously with not a small amount of wistfulness at the brisk pace that the older boy had taken action. “But it appears as if our expedition is finally getting somewhere.” Tailing the knights and thankful for his ability to tuck himself into corridors and passages relatively unseen, Linhardt picked up his pace, with Lorenz in tow. At last, they were closing in on a possible culprit. 

= =

“What did you think of the rest of that book?” Ferdinand asked. “I didn’t get a chance to look at much, but perhaps you were able to get something out of it.”

In all honesty, she thought the story dragged on in the last third, when the author was running out of ideas to keep her two paramours apart. Misunderstandings, kidnappings and a moonlit sword-fight by a bridge punctuated the end of the novel in rapid-fire succession. Swordplay, they could manage. But Dorothea drew the line at being kidnapped without putting up a fight.

“It was a lovely story,” Dorothea replied. “It’s just not mine. Or yours, I think,” she added, for good measure. “Are you doing alright leading a mercenary band, or do you miss being a big-shot noble more?”

She took a sip of her tea, and looked over at Ferdinand thoughtfully. Most nobles, by the time several days had passed, would have been despondant beyond the point of getting out of bed or sulking in silene. But he hadn’t complained much about being a commoner, at least outwardly. The cheery expression with which he talked to merchants or other mercenaries was a refreshing change, indeed, from her stuffy companions of House Arnault. It was ironic, thought Dorothea, that she had once thought Ferdinand himself too stuffy to associate with out of all the nobles enrolled in the Black Eagles. Bee-like as he was, there was an earnest intensity with which he conducted himself.

“Nobility is not something welded to a person,” he said thoughtfully. “After all, titles may be won or lost, as evidenced by Imperial history. And noble character, futhermore—” Already, he sounded more animated than the mercenary’s role that the book had cast him in. As Ferdinand prattled his way back into his usually excitable demeanor, Dorothea smiled. Funny, how the sight of something so ordinary was comforting.

But that was the problem with spending more itme with him. The more Ferdinand proved himself to be someone who listened and cared for what she thought, the harder it was to part ways eventually.

Clusters of Peanuts and almonds roasted in a sweet honey syrup were piled high into a brightly painted paper bag. Steam and a sweet but greasy scent wafted from the cart, tended to by an elderly man who scooped and sorted out his wares with a deft hand.

“Three gold, miss,” the vendor beamed, catching Dorothea’s curious gaze.

“One,” Dorothea insisted.

“One?!” The man’s tone turned sharp. “You’ll be starving my family, at that price.” He pulled the treats back, scowling deeply.

“Perhaps there can be a compromise here. Two gold will suffice, will it not, sir?” Ferdinand grinned brightly. “It appears that she was quite eager to try these.” Dorothea felt the brush of his fingers against her shoulder, half-acting in order to win over the merchant, half calming her out of her momentary lapse into commoner logic.

“Two, then.” There was still a bit of grumbling under his breath from the man, but Dorothea knew that he’d be getting a nice bonus selling to a noblewoman who haggled down the price. Gratefully taking the bag of honeyed nut clusters, she sighed contently as the small paper package warmed her hands against the quickly chilling night.

Dorothea had missed the speciality once she’d gone to Garreg Mach, and hadn’t realized how long she had gone without them. Noticing Ferdinand tip his share into his mouth, she mock-gasped.

“Such rough table manners. I am shocked,” she grinned.

“One must play the part of the rough-and-tumble mercenary,” he smiled back, beaming before reaching for a rough cotton handkerchief. It seemed that old habits, despite Ferdinand’s protests, died hard. 

He was a bee, through and through. And yet, how he was mesmerized was something marvelous and warm that she’d wanted to take for herself, even if it was for the briefest of moments.

“It’s too bad I’ve run out of money. I would’ve liked to try another bite.”

“Would you like the last one, Ferdie? You’ve certainly earned something for yourself, since you’ve helped make my evening a little better.”

“How?”

She held the tidbit of almonds and honey between her fingers, knowing its sticky-sweetness almost matched the color of his eyes. It had taken but a moment for Dorothea to pop the piece of candy into his mouth. Where her fingertips brushed his lips for the briefest of moments, she felt sparks of heat. As she drew back, his eyes remained on her with the focused expression that she knew all too well, but had never been the center of. 

Perhaps instinctively, he moved closer, watching her carefully with eyes that shone the color of gold in the lamplight. His gaze betrayed nothing but the slightest hint of curiosity. It was clear that they had learned of courtship and companionship from different teachers. But wanting, thought Dorothea, came from one’s self.

There was the slightest of a noise, something like a hitch in his breath as Dorothea claimed another taste of sweetly roasted honey for herself, brushing her lips over Ferdinand’s in a rustle of skirts and silks. A kiss would change nothing, and it would simply add to the theatricality of the story they were in. This she told herself as she snuggled closer, her pulse quickening as she felt a small gasp and a sudden hitch in her breath. 

Such thoughts were necessarily grounding, but they were left uselessly irrelevant when there was the feel of his fingers threading through her hair and the slightest of sighs she heard through her lips. She nudged herself closer and shut off her racing thoughts, driven by a curiosity that was always there, but had been quickly silenced by the confounds of the Fodlan they dwelled in. Whether Ferdinand’s arms were as warm and comforting in the real world as they were in the world of the book, she couldn’t say. But as Dorothea drew back, tasting the remnants of honey and tea from him, she closed her fingers reflexively holding close the memory it.

There was almost a glow in his eyes as they parted, and a look of realization that she was certain she would see when they inevitably went their separate ways. Dorothea’s heartbeat pounded in her ears as she willed it to slow down to something more befitting them both.

“Have you felt lonely?” She heard him murmur, his voice warm and a little sleepy, as if he’d woken up from a dream that he wanted to return to. When Ferdinand’s gaze met hers, a sudden jolt ran through her that she had given something over— something she had sworn never to hand over recklessly. Not since the boy that had seen her in the fountain had looked on her with scorn that still dripped with poison years later.

In indulging her curiosity, she had opened the door to getting hurt. And that was a door that needed to be kept closed.

“Loneliness isn’t something that matters for nobles,” She replied, looking away.“You of all people should know about that.”


	6. Looming Storms

In the precious few seconds spent in Dorothea’s embrace, he was certain that it had been something he’d been searching for his entire life.For one brief and perfect moment, Ferdinand was certain he was on the brink of remembering something terribly important. Yes, he was certain that whatever it was he reached for would answer a question that had stirred his mind as a child. But in that moment, the only thing he thought of was the soft curls of brown hair that brushed against his face, and the whisper-quiet puffs of their breaths.

As they parted ways, the feeling of the same elusive memory— the same damningly cursed unknown offense he had inflicted on her— had returned to keep the two of them apart. An arc of sunlight and the gleam of water— then, once again the memory escaped his grasp.The question had leapt out in a half-asleep stupor, and she had bolted away as if it was a pail of cold water uncerimoniously dumped over her head.

It was no secret, even within the monastery, that Dorothea never did things without a flair for the dramatic, preferring to scorch foes by quick lightning over flame. Her reflexes had told her to run, for some reason, leaving Ferdinand with yet another conundrum to solve. Just what was it that he had done to upset her _now_?

When he was put back into his rightful place as the son of Duke Aegir, there were likely students he could consort with that weren’t as difficult, ill-tempered, or high-spirited. And yet, because none of those students were Dorothea, Ferdinand found himself in an uncharacteristically long stretch of melancholy.

“You want me to what?” The grizzled mercenary repeated. Ferdinand found himself brandishing the package of tea that she had given him. “Tea? Shall I fetch you scones and cakes to go with them, milord?” The woman guffawed, slapping the shoulder of her compatriot. “What’s gotten into _you_ lately, Captain?”

“Oh, my mistake. I shall do it myself. ” With a bright peal of laughter that all his years of etiquette training mercifully forced into fruition, he got up from the crate where he sat and took ahold of the tin teakettle from their supply kit. “May I brew you a cup for your troubles, while we listen to reports, Lieutenant Rebekah?”

The mercenary only growled in reply, and Ferdinand could only puzzle as to why a show of hospitality wasn’t something she took to heart. Was it simply just a life of claiming payments, maintaining swords, and taking journeys free from human connections? Doubtless, there were people for which such a life was perfect. For Ferdinand, however, the days of a commoner only seemed to add to the list of what he had to take care of once his title and name were rightfully reclaimed.

Rebekah relented eventually, taking a mug and helping herself to tea and cheap biscuits. “House Arnault been shipping suspicious goods lately using their manor as a clearing house, and the Emperor’s wants us to investigate. Their outing to House Hsresvelg’s ball in three days is an opportunity to get the job done. I say we do it, since the pay’s always good from the Crown.”

“The Arnaults?” Ferdinand frowned. “I—er”

“You’re sweet on their daughter, Captain. But work is work, and feelings is feelings, right?” Rebekah swiped her biscuit to the side. “You’ve got twenty-five mouths and their families to feed, and twenty-five swords pointed at us if we don’t get money on the table.”

His heartbeat pounded with the knowledge that a simple mercenary captain’s decisions wasn’t the first time he had heard such an admonishment. Duke Aegir, as proud as he was of their legacy, ahd always drilled into his son the importance of making decisions when he needed to, even if they were difficult. House Vestra had never been easy to deal with, and Hubert himself proved to impeded his ambitions to best serve— and best compete with— the Empress-to-be herself.

“Of course,” Ferdinand nooded. “Then let us commence with the preparations for this mission.”

= =

Cues, pauses and selective silences were the building blocks of a good songstress. In her days in the opera, Dorothea had climbed up the ranks of the chorus by knowing when to shine and when to hold her fire. The same had to be true for a noble title that, as it seemed, wanted her to be quiet as often as possible.

Servants weren’t so different from messengers, assistants and the other medley of staff that made up the Mittelfrank Opera company. In the days followed in the von Arnault household, Dorothea settled her nerves and began to listen.

Her parents were displeased. Very much so, if the increasingly icy glances at her at dinners and teas were anything to go by. Such anger wasn’t new to her, but there was something brewing— as always— in Imperial capitol politics. They withdrew earlier and earlier in the day, planning something that Dorothea wasn’t able to pry from even the most talkative of servants.

“They’re shutting themselves away, ma’m,” the lady-in-waiting frowned. “You understand, of course, that running a House is time-consuming.” 

“Oh, I’m sure their duties are terribly busy,” Dorothea nodded politely. “But of course, I have matters to discuss with my dear mother and father of utmost importance. Could you let them know that?”

“Of course, milady.” The servant curtseyed, shuffling away and leaving Dorothea alone once more.

She sat against an overstuffed chair with her thoughts, having spent the better part of two days trying to avoid doing so. What had she done, clinging to Ferdinand like she had no sense of dignity or had standards for the nobles she’d flirted with?

No noble had ever given her the look that he did, that gaze that marveled at everything that she was, and that even small moments spent would be something that he savored. The look, try as Dorothea might to try to harden her heart over the years, melted and thawed something inside. The moment in time was like one of the sweets that she had eaten— that they had shared within the embrace.

What would it be like to want someone like him? Exhausting, probably. And learning to put up with more than she had imagined. After all, it was hard work, opening up one’s heart when there were plenty of reasons not to.

Finding her courage, she went off to her rooms to send a message off into the city.

= =

“I knew it,” Annette said, closing the book. “There was no way that people who fought like that wouldn’t have secretly liked each other.”

“That is the most illogical reasoning I have ever seen. Surely there could have been opportunities to smooth out differences at the Academy.” Lysithea shook her head.

Mercedes touched the side of her face in thought, as she always did when there was something to figure out about difficult people. “Well, I guess people are kind of illogical, when you think about it. But in a fun way, if that makes sense.”

“I don’t see what the fuss is all about,” Linhardt drawled. “Love is something that’s always seemed…very time consuming. Tiring, even” He let out a yawn, but continued to take notes on possible ways to break the portaling spell within the book’s bindings. That much, they had gotten from the pegasus knight. But even with new intelligence and a team of the Academy’s finest (okay, most conveniently gathered) magical minds, progress was slow.

“You’re missing the point,” Annette snapped, slamming her palms down on the table.“This isn’t a matter of finding the right formula. The story itself had the spell woven into it.” She pointed at the text that the novel was open to, where the mercenary and noblewoman were star-crossed by their roles. “See the sigils in the margins? If it’s a love story that’s got them trapped, then figuring it out to the end is how we get them back.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dorothea definitely has the most romance novel name in this game. I was thinking about this when I was playing and now I have to run with this bit


End file.
